That's Amore
by Irish Graffiti
Summary: Max needs a break, and Fang's got a plan. European escape? Extreme case of Faxness. Lots of fluff. Hopefully, it won't make you barf.
1. Fang's Master Plan

**Well, here it is. The Faxness story I've been debating whether to put on here for like, months. Basically, Clare (Sandstorm16) made me. This one's for you, babe. :P**

**I kept reading through it trying to find some way to make it better, but only little things are jumping out at me. Thus, I would LOOOVE some feedback on this one. This one won't be too long; originally it was only going to be four chapters, but they got long and I had to spread them out...it'll probably end up being 7 or 8 chapters long.**

**BEWARE TEH CHEEZY. Seriously. I didn't mean for it to turn out this bad...it's like the cheesiness was an infection...and forgive the totally corny story premise. I just went "I wanna write this, no matter how dumb it sounds!" So...basically, this story was me indulging myself in writing something romantic. Hope it doesn't suck too much. Anyway...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. Or Europe.**

**Chapter One: Fang's Master Plan**

I never thought I'd go to Europe. I've always wanted to, but being an experiment on the run kind of makes leisure time null and void. However, I had read about it: the glittering Eiffel Tower in Paris, the packed, rainy streets of London, the vivid color and richness of Rome. It sounded like a fantasy, where nothing could go wrong and Erasers were nothing but a scary story made up to put children to bed.

Still, while Europe was only on the other side of the Atlantic, it might have been on the other side of the Milky Way as far as we were concerned. There were always other things on the agenda, other problems to attend to. Besides, I was Max, the leader, the practical one. I didn't have room in my head for daydreaming. That is, until that day, the day that Fang suggested his crazy scheme. And as it turned out, I wouldn't just get to experience Europe, but so much more.

"Max! The toilet's plugged up again!"

"Max, Gazzy pulled my hair!"

"Max, do you think this milk tastes a little sour?"

"Max, can we go fly for a while?"

Max, Max, Max. For crying out loud! I know I'm the leader of this flock and all, but sometimes it feels like I can barely _breathe_ without some winged individual getting on my case about something. I love them all to bits, I really do, but _come on_! I'm not the only so-called 'adult' in our twisted little family! Fang just turned eighteen last week, and even though Iggy hasn't had his birthday yet (and that minor factor of him being blind, and all), he's still perfectly capable.

Most of the time, being the mom doesn't bother me; in fact, I like it. But every once in awhile (like now), I wish I could just have a little time to myself.

I was contemplating this one Sunday afternoon after a particularly wearing week, hiding under the covers of the hotel bed and pretending to be asleep, hoping that would dissuade all attempts at conversation with me, when a voice that was creepy in its close proximity spoke the dreaded word. "Max?"

"What?!" I spat, unnecessarily loud and sitting bolt upright to find, to my chagrin, Fang leaning over the bed with his customary blank expression. "Oh, sorry." I said quickly, embarrassed how I'd gone off on him so fast. I'm normally such a put-together kind of person, but Fang has this annoying knack of catching me at my worst.

"Pardon me for interrupting your beauty sleep, not that you were actually getting any," Fang deadpanned with his usual irritating bluntness, "but I wanted to ask you something."

I sighed, preparing myself for whatever strange crisis had befallen our flock this time. "Ask away." I said wearily. I was expecting to hear some gruesome tale about how Iggy had blown up another hot dog stand or how Gazzy had tried to go skateboarding on the roof. What I definitely did _not_ expect were the words that next came out of Fang's mouth.

"What do you think of a vacation? Just for you?"

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "Wh-_what_?!"

Fang shrugged. "You look like you could really use a break lately, and after all you put up with, you deserve it."

"Fang, could you please tell me who ran off with your sanity?" I asked, honestly worried about his state of mind. Maybe his position as 'dad' of this family had finally pushed him over the edge.

He sighed and put one hand on either side of the bedposts so his stubborn frown was right up in my face and articulated deliberately and slowly "I. Want you. To go. On vacation. In fact, I think I'm going to _make_ you, before you totally lose your mind."

"Who's losing their mind?!" I demanded, glowering at him fiercely. "I'm not going off by myself and leaving the flock behind!"

"Fine. I'll go with you." Fang replied simply.

"What--? No, you _know_ that's not what I meant!"

"Look, Max," Fang said in a way that was maddeningly calm and collected next to my blatant hysteria. "It's not like it was when we were younger; we can pretty much all take care of ourselves now. I'll talk to Iggy about it, but I don't think he'll mind. He's been saying you need some R & R for ages now."

He got up and paused in the doorway. "C'mon, Max. Think about it. Isn't there someplace you've always wanted to go, but couldn't because you were taking care of the kids?"

I automatically had a 'no,' the sensible answer, ready in my throat, but it fizzled out almost immediately when I actually stopped to think about it. Yes, there was somewhere I'd always wanted to go. I'd never had the chance ever before, and now, all of a sudden…

Fang flashed one of his rare, mysterious smiles and added "Be sure and pick somewhere cool. Remember, I'm your partner in crime for this expedition."

Oh, cripes. Me and Fang, going on vacation. Alone. Just us.

Holy shit.

So that was how I ended up on a plane to London, courtesy of my Maximum Ride credit card, with Fang next to me, absorbed in a magazine while I stared out the black window, freaking out. We'd decided to take a plane because the Atlantic Ocean was not exactly small, and we didn't want to run out of energy partway across.

I had been amazed how well it had all gone over. Iggy had agreed to the arrangement almost at once, although I'd heard him fight down snorts of amusement when Fang announced that he was going with me. Nudge was absolutely impossible, elbowing me in the ribs and winking at every opportunity. The two youngest ones had been a bit put out that they weren't invited, but they took it in stride. All in all, it went better than anything in our lives ever had. However, now that we were up in the air, I was starting to get slightly panicky.

"What if something's happened?" I addressed the window worriedly, my fingernails already halfway to my mouth. "What if they've run into Eraser trouble? What if they can't get enough to eat? What if—"

"_Max_," Fang growled, slapping a hand over my mouth. "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to stuff you full of Valium so you sleep the whole flight. And I'll record you when you snore." He sighed deeply and turned his vat-of-endless-dark-chocolate eyes on me, which effectively shut me up for good. "Seriously, Max, you can 'what if?' until you're blue in the face, but it won't do you any good. Shit happens, whether you're there or not. Now, do you trust me?"

I blinked, thrown by the rapid change of subject. "Huh?"

I think those eyes were dangerously close to burning holes in my brain. "Do. You. Trust. Me?"

"Y-yes." I said uncertainly.

"Good. So trust me to trust Iggy to take care of our flock until we get back. And trust me to know what I'm doing dragging you across the ocean. Okay?"

I took a deep breath. Trusting isn't something I'm especially good at, even if it is Fang. "Okay." I said.

His mouth twisted into a little half-smile and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. "Okay." He turned back to his magazine and held out a crinkled plastic bag. "Skittles?" he offered.

I accepted gratefully, grinning a little. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

**A/N: Well, children, there it is. ducks from barrage of flying objects bound to be aimed at her head Okay, maybe it wasn't that pitiful. I guess the amount of reviews will tell...later!**


	2. London Calling

**And chapter 2 makes its appearance! The first and second chapters I really had no major problems with, but the third is kind of dry, so don't be surprised if it doesn't come up for a week or two. And don't harp at me for not getting stuff up; being a senior in high school is no slack deal, let me tell you. I just finished my stupid Hamlet annotations and I'm two assignments behind now in College Alg. And what am I doing now instead of getting caught up? Writing. " So don't be too mad at me.**

**Fun fact about this story: I got the title from a song out of one of my favorite romance movies, "Moonstruck." It was made in the 80's and it's got Cher and Nicholas Cage in it. Anyway, good movie. If you're 13 or above, I recommend giving it a view (it's got some adult themes in it, so I figure I'd better post a warning). I love the whole mood of it and I LOVE Italian people (sometimes I secretly wish I was Italian). So that might give you a hint where Max and Fang will end up...ah, but I've said too much. " Bad Erin.**

**This A\N is getting rather long, but before I go, I'd like to give a shout-out to my awesome reviewers, especially TheSmartypants...thank you so much. One of my greatest desires is to present the characters as they are supposed to be (I'm rather scared, 'cause I think Fang came out kinda OOC-y in this chappie), so it was a big compliment to hear it from you. And of course, to Clare...you make me LOL, my dear. XD I'm glad you like it. And yes, they will definitely wind up in _Pareeeee!_ :D**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I have no ownership whatsoever over Max and Fang and their crazy lives; JP is just kind enough to let fanfic writers like myself borrow them for awhile.**

**Chapter Two: London Calling**

I ended up sleeping a lot on the flight once I managed to wind down. So did Fang, as it happened. I suppose this was a good thing, since the time zones were several hours apart and we would've been dying of jet lag later, but when you wake up to the captain coming over the intercom and saying "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London, England. We will be landing in about five minutes. We thank you for flying with us." and you find your head in your best friend's lap, you are prone to have at least a marginal amount of awkward silence and blushing.

Fortunately, we didn't have time to be distracted, because we were soon disembarking, picking up our backpacks, and walking out into the chilly London air.

"Well, this is…nice." Fang commented on the very boring cement wonder of an airport lot and parking garage we were standing in, looking like the fish out of water we were.

"Oh, shut up." I muttered, playfully nudging him in the ribs. "C'mon, let's go."

We climbed up to the top level of the parking garage before we untucked our wings, our hair tossed wildly about in the cloudy, windy afternoon. "So," Fang asked me with that oh-so-familiar one-sided grin. "Where do you wanna go first?"

I grinned back at him. "I just wanna fly." I replied, and without waiting for him to reply I leapt off the edge of the cinderblock wall and caught an updraft, flapping my powerful wings rhythmically and zipping off through the maze of skyscrapers. I heard Fang's own steady downbeats behind me and a stream of laughter escaped me as I rolled and dived through the air.

"What?!" Fang hollered against the wind, and I looked back to see him smiling broadly and shaking his head at my uncharacteristic show of jubilation.

I waited for him to catch up and I gestured to the boundless, beautiful sky. "It's just nice to be flying again. And here, _here_ of all places! At the risk of sounding like a Hallmark card, it's…it's one of my dreams coming true. I never thought I'd able to be here."

He smiled and brushed his wingtips against mine affectionately. "I'm glad." he replied, and I could tell he meant it.

_Whoa_! I shook my head quickly. Were Fang and I having a togetherness moment? Sheesh! You'd think I'd learn. We had enough of those at home, and they always morphed into awkward moments with Gazzy making kissy noises behind our backs. I didn't need those cluttering up my vacation.

"Race ya to the clock tower!" I hollered, and took off toward Big Ben, far in the distance, with Fang close at my heels.

Hotel Number One was pretty dang spiffy. Of course, with our unlimited money stores, we never really did too badly in that area, but Fang had obviously done a little bit of planning. Free continental breakfast, an in-suite refrigerator, and a view of a quaint little duck pond across the street. I approved. Plus, they gave out free chocolate chip cookies at the registration desk. Not quite Dr. Martinez-worthy, but close.

"So," Fang asked, dumping our luggage on the nearest bed while I stared out the window, examining our surroundings. "What should we do tonight?"

"Well, food would be nice." I commented. I hadn't had anything but Skittles and little packets of airplane pretzels since we'd left, and my stomach was starting to protest.

"Food would." Fang agreed, as his own abdomen made a noise I can only describe as a snarl. "And I suppose some sight-seeing would be in order. However," he glanced down at himself "We're not really dressed for a night on the town."

I snorted. "When are we _ever_?" I asked, examining my own faded and ripped jeans and my t-shirt with its large bleach stain down the front.

Fang, however, seemed strangely focused. He ambled up to me, a funny sort of grin on his face that made me raise an eyebrow. "What?" I asked, slightly nervous. I'd never seen him wear that look before, and it was kind of freaking me out.

He bent down so we were eye-to-eye, and that slow, sultry (if I were any other girl, I might even call it _sexy_) grin grew ever wider. "This is _your_ vacation." he reminded me. Then he grabbed me by the hand and abruptly yanked me toward the door. "C'mon!" he called, and he was beaming like a little kid, a sight I hadn't seen since…I don't know when. He stuffed the hotel key in his back pocket and asked "Got your credit card?" As soon as I nodded, we were out the door.

"Fang, what the hell are you doing?"

Fang didn't answer me; he just shoved a series of brightly-colored textiles into my hands. "Try 'em on." he ordered, leaving me no room to argue. We were in some kooky little vintage clothing store about four blocks from our hotel. How I had gotten Fang to drag me in there, I really didn't know, but now he had suddenly become mentally unhinged and started throwing clothes at me.

"Fang, I am _not_ a shopping kind of girl." I told him, even though he knew this full well and apparently did not care.

"Do it." Fang said firmly, arms crossed over his chest. "This is _your_ vacation, and I am going to baby the hell out of you, even if I have to beat you up to do it. You haven't had new clothes since last Christmas, and those were socks, so I don't think they count."

"My clothes are just fine, thank you very much!" I protested, thoroughly aware that he was steering me ever closer to the fitting rooms. Damn him.

"I never said they weren't." Fang replied coolly. "But everybody likes something new to wear every now and then."

"We need the money for other things…" I started, trailing off when I saw Fang's face. "Fine." I huffed. "I'll try them on…but that doesn't mean I'll like any of 'em!"

I shut the door behind me and disentangled the mess of hangers and clothing that Fang had shoved in my face. It took me only a few seconds to find the first problem.

"You gave me a _dress_!" I shouted incredulously.

"Uh huh." Fang's voice floated casually through the door. "Try that on first. I wanna see how it looks on you." I could practically_ hear_ the smirk on his face.

I grumbled some inappropriate words under my breath as I took the thing off its hanger and examined it. As dresses go, I suppose it wasn't bad. It was a little sundress, white with pink and orange hibiscuses splashed all over it and it tied behind my neck, leaving me room for my wings.

_My wings_…I felt a jolt of uncertainty as I started to slip the dress on. Fang must have seen how it was made; he knew I could never wear it out in public. _So why…?_

There was a little knock on the door. "Need help tying it?" Fang asked, and his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. It was like he knew what was going through my head, and that the thought of me never getting to dress like a regular girl had plagued me ever since I was a kid.

I blinked back the peculiar wetness in my eyes and replied "Yeah, thanks."

Fang slipped inside, and I pulled back my hair to let him tie the halter-back dress. I felt his calloused fingers brush the nape of my neck, and it made the little hairs there stand up. He knotted it in a neat bow, and then stood back to look at me. When I glanced into the mirror, I was a little taken aback at what I saw. Sure, I'd seen my reflection plenty of times, and I knew that I was not repulsive or anything, but I'd never really thought of myself as pretty, either. But standing there in that dainty little dress, with my wings outstretched and my hair sort of messy, I thought I looked alright. Better than alright.

"It's…okay, I guess." I admitted ruefully, blushing a little under Fang's inscrutable gaze. My eyes darted everywhere, ceiling, floor, my frown becoming ever more pronounced.

"Okay…" Fang muttered, rolling his eyes. He came up behind me and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around my shoulders, resting his head on the left one. "You look gorgeous, silly."

The wetness was back, and I bit my lip, ducking my head so Fang wouldn't see my stupid tears.

"Hey, hey…" He pulled me closer, rubbing his cheek against mine. "It's okay." Most guys would be like "What the hell?! Don't cry!" But not Fang. He knew exactly why I was upset, and it was a mark of our closeness that he didn't laugh at me. "Maybe someday," he said quietly, so low that it was barely a whisper of breath in my ear "Maybe someday you can show those wings off to everybody, and nobody will care. They'll stare, sure, but it'll be 'cause they think those are the most beautiful things they've ever seen."

I sniffed a little, hating myself for losing it in front of him. I was Maximum Ride; something this trivial shouldn't make me fall to pieces.

At that moment, however, Fang brought me sharply out of my reverie by planting a quick kiss on my left temple. My eyes shot open, and I stopped crying, mostly out of surprise, but the image that was reflected in the mirror startled me almost as much as the reality of what had happened. There was girl in a cute little sundress, her wings being slightly smashed by the arms of the boy behind her, who was looking into their reflection with content. Then, before I could psychoanalyze it any further, Fang got a mischievous look in his eye and tugged at the bow he had just tied, making the dress slip down in the front.

"FANG!" I yelped, and he laughed, making a hasty escape out the door.

"Try something else on!" he called over his shoulder.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THAT!" I vowed, turning candy-apple red as I covered myself up again until I was sure he had shut the door behind him.

He seemed unperturbed by death threats. "Sure, sure." he replied good-naturedly. "Now hurry up, prima donna! I'm starving here."

I ended up getting the dress (on Fang's insistence), along with a couple new pairs of jeans that looked like they'd been patched and frayed on purpose, instead of Eraser wear-and-tear, and two shirts, one that had a picture of the London skyline on a black background, and another with "90 Angel" emblazoned on it. "Well, 2 anyway." Fang had joked when I picked it up.

"Okay, your turn now." I told him once I was back in my normal clothes.

Fang looked surprised. "What?"

"You made me try on stuff; now it's your turn, loser!" I informed him, grinning maliciously.

Of course, Fang's choice of outfit was predictable. Black shirt with some band name embellished on the front, scruffy black jeans, black studded belt…well, you get the idea.

"Why do you always have to look like we're going to a funeral?" I asked irritably. So he picked up a burgundy suit jacket that looked like it had seen better days to wear over it. The result made him look like an underfed rock star.

We hurried down the darkening sidewalks, our shopping bags swinging at our sides, laughing like idiots. For some reason, even though we were just a couple of out-of-place mutant teenagers (who were very hungry by this point), something about the bustling city atmosphere of London made me feel more alive than I ever did.

We finally found someplace to eat, a little fish-and-chips vendor who seemed amazed at the sheer amount of food we could consume in one sitting, but we didn't care. We hauled the fruits of our labor back to the park by the little duck pond and ate, talking and hitting each other playfully on the arm.

"Hey, Fang?" I asked several minutes later, when we were both full of fish and chips and were lying on our backs in the damp grass as the first few stars began to wink into view.

"Hmm?" he answered.

"Does that dress really look okay on me, or were you just saying that to make me stop crying?" I wanted to know.

He reached over and noogied me for the umpteenth time that night. "It looks _fine_, how often do I have to tell you? I think I'm gonna get a recording of me saying that, and just play it back whenever you're having a girly moment."

"Sorry." I mumbled, embarrassed at getting caught being girly.

We were silent for several minutes, just laying there, watching the undersides of clouds and the faint pinpoints of stars that peeked out between them. I was suddenly very aware of Fang's hand, lying just inches away from mine in the grass. Should I take it? That seemed extremely girlfriendly, not to mention cheesy, but I was starting to think about Fang and I a lot more…Hold on! Did I just acknowledge that there was a _Fang and I_?

Then I thought about it. _Was_ there a Fang and I? Did I want there to be a Fang and I? More importantly, did _he_ want there to be a Fang and I? Fang never seemed like the kind of guy you would have a relationship with, romantic or otherwise. He seemed kind of untouchable, even after you'd lived with him for most of your life. However, he had been talking a lot more tonight, when it was just the two of us, especially when he was telling me my wings were beautiful…

I suddenly felt his fingers rustling in the grass and touching my own. He rubbed my palm with his thumb, tracing little patterns. Not really holding, but close enough. I let him. I decided I didn't care.

This was nice.

**A\N: --_fine_-- --Like the Italian word for end, not like Fang is so fine I want to jump him, although that's relevant, too. ;D Love you all for reading. Reviews are nice. :)**


	3. London Calling, Part Two

**Ahem...well, it's finally up. " ducks barrage of flying objects Actually, I have to thank you guys for giving me a reason to keep up with this story. I'm currently working on Chapter 4, and I have some good ideas for it, so I'm excited:D**

**I'm not overly fond of this chapter (Raphy: rolls eyes "That's 'cause there's not enough fluff in it for a rabid fangirl like you..."), but I think it came out alright. There's a lot of references to specific places in London, so I'm hoping I spelled them all correctly and didn't make any hideous geographical errors; I just know that some British person is going to get on my case about something and be all bops Erin on the head with a scone "You bloody moron!" XD No, but seriously, I hope I'm doing the city justice.**

**Thanks to all of you so much for your reviews! Keep giving me all your lovely feedback!**

**Disclaimer: Last I checked, I am not an old man named James Patterson. Thus, I do not own Maximum Ride.**

**Chapter Three: London Calling, Part Two**

I am definitely not a morning person. Hence, when Fang attempted to drag me out of bed at a quarter after eight (after keeping me up till midnight watching pay-per-view with him, I might add), I was understandably miffed.

"They only serve breakfast until nine, Max." he informed me, yanking the covers back, causing me to curl up into an even tighter ball on the mattress.

"Screw breakfast." I grumbled into my pillow.

He sighed and left to go brush his teeth. About a minute later, I heard his frantic voice, a door slam, and the sound of things being tossed around. "Max, Erasers in the hotel!"

I sprang up, immediately awake. Panicking, I started to yank on the jeans that I'd worn yesterday over my athletic shorts that I used for pajamas, when I noticed that Fang was standing in the bathroom doorway, grinning like an idiot.

"Morning, sunshine." he drawled, and I threw my pillow at him, which he easily dodged. "Knew that'd get you up."

"Jerk." I muttered under my breath, but pulled the jeans off and started to get dressed like a normal person. Now that I was semi-coherent, breakfast was sounding pretty good to me, too.

We made it downstairs dressed, ready, and decently awake at a quarter till nine. The concierge at the front desk greeted us with a warm smile, and two British grannies with too much rouge giggled as we passed. "What an adorable couple!" I heard one whisper to the other, and I slapped a hand on my forehead, feeling my neck go hot.

When I started pouring myself a cup of coffee, Fang leaned over my shoulder and muttered, smirking "Care for some sugar, pumpkin?" and I backhanded him cleanly.

Can I just say right now that I _love_ continental breakfasts? Especially in a nice place like this was. Everything that you could possibly want: bagels, muffins, cereal, toast, eggs, bacon…it was all there. And as much as you wanted, which always made things easier for us bottomless bird-kids.

"So, sweetheart, what's the plan for today?" I asked, sitting down across from Fang with my plate piled high with pancakes.

He swallowed a rather large bite of scrambled egg and replied, grinning. "Anything you want, buttercup. Although I would suggest the Tower of London, myself. A bit of history, a bit of gore, lots of torture equipment…"

"Sounds like a visit to the School." I said, making a face.

"Okay, so we skip the Tower, then. Westminster Abbey is supposed to be something, I guess. Lot of important dead people buried there."

I shrugged. "Might be interesting, I guess."

So we wound up at Westminster Abbey, which is not only like the biggest church I have ever set foot in, but also one of the cooler places that I've ever been to in my life. Now, I'm not exactly a history buff, but even I recognized the names that were on the tombs in those cloisters. It seemed like everyone who was anyone, from paupers to kings, was buried there. Shakespeare…Charles Dickens…Laurence Olivier…

My personal favorite was the grave of Queen Elizabeth I. Jeb had given me a book about her when I was about twelve; he said he thought I'd identify with her, and I totally did. She was pretty much the first big feminist; she single-handedly ruled a country that had been dominated by men for centuries. You go, Lizzie.

One thing about the abbey: there's a hush that falls over the place from the second you walk in. Like, I could tell a perceptible difference in the air.

"It's so…quiet," I whispered as we lagged behind a little behind our tour group, our eyes scanning the intricate ceiling and stained-glass windows.

"It's nice."

I smiled. It was so like Fang to feel most comfortable in a silent and slightly secluded sort of place. Honestly, though, it was hard to be uncomfortable in Westminster Abbey; I'm not sure how to explain it, really, but it just gave off this really good vibe, like it was a little world unto itself and that the problems of outside couldn't penetrate its walls.

I breathed in deeply, slowly. The air was musty with the legacies of the past, but at the same time it was fresh to me. Our lives were so hectic and oftentimes terrifying; it was such a nice change of pace to be somewhere so secure. "It feels safe in here," I said.

Fang turned to look at me, and I suddenly flushed, kicking myself for saying that. I hated appearing weak or afraid in front of my flock, but sometimes, when it was just me and Fang like this, I found myself acknowledging my own fears more openly. "I-I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound all damsel-in-distressy…"

"No," Fang cut me off. He grabbed my hand and held it firmly, interlacing our fingers, like I'd threatened to run off or something. "It does." He gave my hand a quick squeeze and pulled me along after him. I turned pinker still, but I followed him, and what's more, I didn't let go of his hand.

After we left the abbey, we flew over to Hyde Park. We ate lunch in one of the highest trees and watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.

For the rest of the day, we just flew everywhere, staring down at the little specks of people and cars below us. We stared down at the fountains in Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus (Fang had to inform me that it was not a real circus, which caused me to pout and him to laugh until he almost fell out of the sky). At sunset, we perched ourselves on the spires of St. Paul's Cathedral and took pictures of the pink and gold cityscape with Fang's camera.

"One more." Fang urged, trying to get the horizon line _just right_ in his field of vision.

"Let's take one of us on top of the cathedral." I suggested, and Fang leaned in, holding the camera out in front of him. It clicked, and I took it from him to see what it looked like. The fading sunlight looked gorgeous, even though we were both squinting into it, and half our faces were in shadow. Even so, I liked it. _We look good together_, I realized, and then quickly shook that traitorous thought from my brain. A big part of me knew I liked Fang, but a bigger part of me wondered what that would do to the flock. What would happen if it didn't work out? That would be unbearable, considering we'd have to live with each other. Therefore, I decided to try not to think about that.

Ha. Easier said than done. Especially since tomorrow, we were hopping on another plane to that ridiculously romantic city of lights, Paris.

**A\N: Does the end seem a bit rushed to you guys, or is that just me? Well, the fact of the matter is it probably is rushed, 'cause I'm itching to get to the FLUFF! Ah, well. Soon, my children, soon. Thank you for reading, as always.**


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